


Weak

by demiclar



Series: Destcember 2020 [5]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Destcember, Forsaken, I'm overly obsessed with this point in time, Post-Cayde death, Sorry I can't help it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27911785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demiclar/pseuds/demiclar
Summary: In the light of Cayde's death, Ikora is weak.
Series: Destcember 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037118
Kudos: 6





	Weak

Ikora had never felt weaker in her life. Had never felt more like a coward, more pathetic, more of a disgrace, more of someone she couldn’t be proud of. Cayde was dead, and she’d done nothing about it. Nothing but go about her day as if it could ever be normal again, fighting off tears at every thought of her friend, now gone.

Weak. She was weak.

The thoughts nagged at her for hours. She knew Cayde deserved to be avenged, Cayde and all the others Uldren Sov had killed. He and Petra had been right to lock him up in the first place, now the murderer was out on the loose and she was doing nothing to stop it. She’d given the Guardian one tip, one piece of information they could’ve found out themselves. It was all she was able to do. Zavala had bound her with his order. She was weak not to disobey.

After the Guardian left for the shore, she didn’t speak to anyone all day. She couldn’t tolerate being out under the sunlight, at her post looking out over the City, the Traveler looming above. She couldn’t tolerate the world carrying on around her, even if the tones were hushed and the people rarely spoke when she was within earshot. She couldn’t tolerate the way the Tower was already feeling grief for the Hunter Vanguard, for her friend.

Instead of trying to bear it, light already licking her fingers in her tension, she’d retreated to her study, trying to do anything productive. Instead, she ended up seated at her desk, her eyes unseeing as she looked on at reports and documents her Hidden had sent to her for review. Someone would have to take over Cayde’s tasks, contact his scouts, field their communications. Someone had to find a new Hunter Vanguard. Someone had to exercise the Dare.

But the Dare wouldn’t work now. Uldren Sov had killed Cayde, and he wasn’t a Guardian. The Traveler’s Chosen had been with Cayde when he died, did that make them Vanguard? Could they really justify pulling their best fighter from the field for the sake of tradition? A passage of command? If they didn’t, what would happen to them?

As soon as the news had come to them, Ikora had seen the Hunters in the Tower begin to vanish. There weren’t many around in the first place, the Tower being only a resting place for their larger missions, but now, only the youngest could be found within its walls. The ones who couldn’t be expected to serve, at least not for many years. Apparently, even the Hunter dens in the city were empty now.

It would be a problem for later. Or perhaps a problem she would give Zavala. He was the Commander, after all. Every thought she’d had of him in the past day had been jaded with bitterness and anger. Still, she could recognize the truth in his words, could understand the reason and the need for his order. It was just another thing that made her weak.

She left her study early, returned to her quarters early. Grief had sapped her strength, and given that Zavala had ordered the guardians against going after Uldren, it wasn’t as though she had any new pressing plans of action to deal with. Not that she could’ve been productive if she tried.

She went straight to bed. Dropped her armor and robes on the floor as she walked and climbed under the blankets in her underclothes. She wrapped herself up in them, the silence around her finally giving her the room and space to grieve, but no tears came. All day, she’d been fighting them back, but now, when she was finally open to them, nothing. She couldn’t accept that her friend was dead. From here, alone in her room, Cayde simply could have been in his own quarters, or at his post, or off in the city, or running a mission out in the system somewhere. He could have been anywhere, but he was dead. And she couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it.

When she finally drifted off, she saw his face in her dreams, and when she awoke not long after, the tears came pouring forth.


End file.
